Easier To Pretend
by LunerSoal996
Summary: It was easier to pretend when you were in pain, rather than face reality. Wingfic, major character death, potentially triggering content


_(A/N) I wasn't going to post this, but then figured 'why the hell not', and did it anyway. I'm new to the whole 'angst and tragedy' thing so Let me know what you think. WARNING! for potentially triggering content, major character death, and feels._

Steve stood there, in the middle of chaos, frozen in place. His heart raced, and ached, and soared, all at once.

In front of him was an impossibly familiar face. It was the face that haunted him, in nightmares and dreams alike, and his every waking moment. The face of his first love, the last face that he saw in his mind's eye before the darkness of the ice. A face he thought he'd never see again in person. And Steve should be fighting, but he can't, because here he stands, frozen in the face of a ghost.

"Stevie?" Bucky croaked, tears welling in his eyes.

But that was all it took (all it would ever take), and he was running faster than he ever had.

He pulled Bucky into a crushing hug, his wings enveloping them. They collapsed to their knees, uncaring of the hard asphalt that met them.

"Bucky" he whispered, voice cracking, arms tightening around the brunet. "I'm so sorry," he croaked, his eyes burning with tears.

Bucky hugged him back just as tightly, trembling "Nothing to be sorry for, punk." he whispered, pulling back so he could look Steve in the eye. "Say, are we still on for that date Saturday?" He asked tearfully, his eyes wide, begging for Steve to play along.

Steve's heart twisted painfully. He crashed his lips to Bucky's, hand coming up to tangle in his long, stringy hair.

Bucky surged into the kiss, his fingers curling into Steve's shirt, tongue writhing against his.

"Yeah," Steve rasped when they pulled apart for air, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I'm good for Saturday." he croaked, clinging to his lover.

Bucky nodded, pulling Steve closer and tucking his head under Steve's jaw "Saturday it is."

Steve simply hummed, cocooning them behind a wall of white and brown plumage.

And, fuck, it _hurt_... But they both knew that it was easier to pretend, rather than face reality.

"Till the end of the line, yeah?" Steve whispered as the blades of a helicopter cut through the air, the sound of tactical boots hitting asphalt rang out, and the slam of car doors echoed around them.

"Till the end of the line," Bucky assured.

"Captain Rogers!" A voice shouts over the sound of helicopter blades and guns cocking "You need to peacefully turn over the target or we will be forced to shoot!"

"See you on Saturday," Steve murmured, pressing one last kiss to Bucky's lips.

"Not if I see you first, Punk," Bucky replied, tears slipping down his cheeks. His hand drifted to the hem of his pants.

"Jerk," Steve fired back, chuckling, wiping the tears away with his thumps.

"Captain Rogers!" The voice called again, "You have until the count of ten to turn over the target!"

Steve smiled reassuringly at Bucky.

"One!"

"Name one of your kids after me, yeah?" Bucky teased, lining up the pistol with his jaw.

"Two!"

Steve nodded "Yeah, of course I will, Buck." he said, smiling tearfully. He had no intention of keeping that promise.

"Three!"

Bucky looked him in the eyes "I'm so lucky to have known you."

"Four!"

Steve smiled "Oh, Bucky, you're not the lucky one. I am." he said wistfully, barely suppressed sobs escaping him.

"Five!"

Bucky brought his hand up, brushing away Steve's tears just like Steve had done for him "Maybe we're both lucky." He mused.

"Six!"

Steve nodded, "Yeah, that could be it." he agreed, pressing Bucky's palm closer to his face "I love you, Buck," he whispered, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"Seven!"

Bucky pressed the muzzle of the gun closer to his jaw, smiling sadly "I love you too, Stevie." he said, finger on the trigger.

"Eight!"

Steve sobbed. Bucky looked at him with eyes full of apology and regret and sadness, but mostly, a love the two of them had always struggled to communicate verbally. Not that they needed to.

"Nine!"

And with that, Bucky pulled the trigger.

Steve choked down his cries and slowly folded his wings behind his back. He carefully lowered the body to the ground, pulling the gun from Bucky's limp fingers.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky," he whispered into the asphalt.

He stood, knees shaking, and turned to the agents, who stood frozen before him.

Steve glared at them, raising the gun to his jaw defiantly. Before they could stop him, he pulled the trigger, and everything went dark. 


End file.
